Category: Uncategorized

Closure is easier with the dead.
The finality of “I can’t see you” is easier to handle
Versus
“I shouldn’t see you”
A slim band of chance that disconnects
my ability to have
Not as an impossibility, but a disciplined
Restraint
Closure is easier when not in the constant,
Meditative practice of reservation

Dear friend,
it has been 10 days since we last spoke,
Or I should say we spoke for the last time,
I told you I was sorry
You told me I was my mother
Friend, it has been years since we hugged
Or I should say embraced
You would rather a kiss than the truth
I would rather not

Friend, we have passed excuses between us like cigarettes
I will always see my pain through your eyes
And you will always see me as below you

Friend, what should I do today?
Without your guidance I don’t know how to be acceptable
How do I fly without my wings
How do I surrender without my flag

Friend, you are the worst and best of me
You would smile, I would yell for you
You would cry, I would fight for you
And you will hurt, and I will never blame you.

Lighting strikes outside the
attic window where i sit,
Blinding me with its white light
as I ignore the commotion downstairs.

Alone with my waking nightmares
The haunting picture of you fills my mind
and the voices in my head scream
the same thing they do every night;

Wondering if I made a monster out of you
or if you were always that way.

If I had been a willing pawn in your
Chess game,
Sacrificed myself for the king,
Would I have been the only one you hurt?

Would i still be here now,
A mere skeleton
On these splintering wood panels
Had I never met you in the first place?
Never let you strip me of my skin
And use it as your own?

But no –
Wait.
In the cobwebs across from me.
A young girl.
Cracked and hollow
As a broken porcelain doll.

She looks up at me,
and does not utter a word.
But the look on her face
Has been on mine before.

Slapped on every time
You made me feel
Like I deserved nothing.

And I want to reach out to her-
But how can I?
When all we are to each other
Are mutual Jane Does.

And to you
We were nothing
But toys.

Suddenly,
There’s a bang
As you burst through the attic door
And back into my nightmare,

And I look up at you,
My twisted little Frankenstein,
As you point your bony, patchwork finger at me
And say
“You did this.”

I know you like the way I say your name,
how I call attention to your presence.
I make the universe aware of you–
you are seen, you are heard.
In that moment,
you exist.
Let me say your name again: [REDACTED].
Let me whisper in your ear: [REDACTED].
Let me purr your name with the accent your mother used so you know where home is:
[REDACTADO].
Let me cry out your name in the throes of passion as we fill each others’ souls with pleasure:
[REDACTED]!
You think I’m too much:
too much to handle,
too many emotions,
too much talking,
too much of me all at once.
But, [REDACTED],
I know you like how I say your name.
I know I send shivers down your spine.
I know I make you squirm in ways you find incredibly uncomfortable, but turns you on so much,
you lose yourself.
And that’s what scares you.
I make you lose control.
You’ve never lost control; that’s not safe.
You must control everything, control it all.
How else can you keep your loved ones protected?
Keep your heart protected?
Because you can’t let that happen again, [REDACTED].
Not that pain.
2
The pain of hurt, of disappointment, of being less than what you wanted to be, of confronting
yourself, of loss, of heartbreak.
[REDACTED], you aren’t going to hurt me.
Don’t you trust me, [REDACTED]?
Do you not think I can take care of myself?
My emotions are not your responsibility, [REDACTED].
Oh.
You think I’ll hurt you. That’s fair. I might. That’s life.
Are you going to stop living for fear of pain, [REDACTED]?
Are you shutting down because of past anguish?
Trauma is trauma and I respect that.
I cannot help you with that so I must reject my urge to help.
I need to let you be,
to simmer, [REDACTED].
I want to simmer in you,
boil in you.
Let me cook.
Let me bake into you.
I am delicious.
Eat me, [REDACTED].
I know you want me as well.
I want you too. I want to make you feel good, feel so good, never leave me good.
I know what I want from you [REDACTED],
and you can’t give me what I want.
That hurts you,
as a people pleaser,
as a leader,
as someone who gets things done.
I’m sorry I fell for you.
I’m sorry I like you so much, [REDACTED].
I’m sorry I am so much; I’m sorry I ever tried to change you.
You are broken and busted and I love you that way, [REDACTED].
I crave you. [REDACTED]
I want to feel your touch.
3
I want to taste you…
again.
While we’re connected,
maybe I’ll feel your pain,
your worries, your fears, and I’ll know you better.
Stop protecting me.
You can’t save me.
You cannot show me anything I haven’t seen before, [REDACTED].
Nothing is new.
I’ve seen it all; I’ve felt it all.
I will know you through your experiences.
I wish you’d share, [REDACTED].
If it hurts you so much, let me catch you when you fall.
Let me be here for you.
Supporting you fulfills me, [REDACTED].
It hurts when you deny me that.
It breaks my heart that you think you will break my heart. You can’t. Only I may break my heart,
[REDACTED]

can you look at me?
can you look into my eyes and promise that when the train comes
you’ll move?
when the ground starts slipping away beneath your feet
you’ll notice and it won’t just be another tuesday for you?
what i’m saying is that i love you
and sometimes i think that you drive too fast in the rain.
what i’m saying is that i’d like to hold your hand
and tell you that everything is going to be okay.
what i’m saying is that i’ll make you tea
when your throat is sore,
and i’ll light a fire
when you can’t feel your fingers anymore.
but can you look at me?
can you promise me this?
when that train comes,
refuse death’s kiss.

The air is heavy with humid heat
quickening the perfumes of the park,
crab-apples, pungent rosehips and lusty lavender.
The melody of the fountain is
played by the breeze that skips through.
All this under a sky of duck-egg
blue and cotton fluff clouds just
tinged with indigo.

The season has yet to flavour the
leaves with the scent and colour of its
spice, yet for the populace the
blackout curtains of their
September mentality have been drawn.

There is only one hue with many
acceptable shades. That is black.
Be it charcoal, jet or ebony – it is
dour, serious, still black. In the most
suffocating of fabrics, layer upon layer.
As though the wearer resides in the
long arctic twilight. A swaddling cloth.

Anything ribald would
be to announce that one is
the scarlet whore of Babylon.

Moods as melancholy as their
black coffee. The communal
social consciousness allows some exceptions
to the rule, be they unprepossessing.
A reticent russet. A meek moss.
A prudent plum. A tepid taupe.
Even the denim takes on a
midnight feel.

A promiscuous palette of colour so
ribald and tempestuous as an English
garden left to follow its whimsy.
Truly what a difference a day makes
as the calendar page turns from August

As though in a haze I recall seeming moments
before the flowers in the
park had competition in garish glory.

And so I sit rebellious in
raspberry, the September sun filtering
through leaves as lingering a lime
as my Italian ice

my mama wouldn’t have known
to ask for the Lord’s forgiveness.

who would ask you to be anyone but yourself?
who would commit such blasphemy, spit such lies
as you belong to one god or another, as if
we weren’t all made under the glorious son,
the natural universe’s starchild.
there is a god here and it is nature,
full of life and eternal and all-encompassing
and more holy and magnificent than any god
one such group could imagine. should not
any divine other than that which has created
beings capable of—thinking—there is any divine at all
count religion as blasphemy?
treachery?

am i the treacherous one, brother?
am i the one who has to repent for one’s sins?
brother,
what is this rot that envelops your soul?
when you think of me, do you think of that little girl?
when you think of me,
do the worms shrivel in your chest?

when i think of you,
i can’t remember you fondly.

the beautiful hills are big but they don’t frighten me
they protect us while we lay on the pointy grass
your golden hair tickling the Earth
as you sing along with the birds when you laugh
we just ate deli meat sandwiches
some say it will give us cancer but at least we will
go down together
our complaints about politics and pottery bounce
against the trees, disappearing in your eyelashes
our favorite pastimes since we were little
slapping each other’s knees
with matching bracelets on the wrists
but bare fingers so we can still hold each other’s hands
the sun smiling down on us
but I think you are bright enough to light this world
and you move freely with the wind, your maxi skirt boundless
and it makes me think
I wish I had the courage to love you like I should

Red Yellow Blue
Green Orange and Purple
Why am I so afraid of these colors

Individually they are my favorite
The spectrum of pigment
Chakras of the body
Refraction of the sky

Unable to sport it in a game
Ashamed to claim
My identity
At least it feels that way
Unless its June or Drag
Then we love the flag

How can something so happy
Be so controversial
What if I wanted to wear these colors?
Hang a flag? Stick a sticker?
Be PROUD of who I am?

What if I could live in a world
Without fear
Of being Queer
Or perhaps
Simply still discovering
Who I am
Without explanation

I am
Who I want to be
Who I need to be
Regardless of comfortability
Regardless of uncertainty
I am free
From your normative shackles
That restrain you
From being me